


Year Five

by RingosLiverpool8



Series: HP/Beatles crossover [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingosLiverpool8/pseuds/RingosLiverpool8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during, "The Chamber of Secrets", Paul literally meets the 'man of his dreams' but everything isn't what he expected it would be. John isn't what he expected and neither is his fifth year at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And If I Say I Really Knew You Well

**Author's Note:**

> ...........................
> 
> I don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP

Summer fell hard on Paul as he had his first birthday without his mother. No homemade cake or birthday party. Paul spent his time away from home or in the garden and sometimes he made his way to George’s house, but even that was rare due to restrictions place on him by his father. ‘George is impure,’ he would say and Paul couldn’t take it, which ended in more fighting between the two of them.

Thankfully, July brought relief. His father and brother left to see family up north, leaving Paul alone at home. They really didn’t ask him to come along and he didn’t complain.

They left and Paul took the opportunity to send letters to his friends saying he was finally free. George and Ringo replied first, showing up at his door, where George begged him to come stay with him. Paul refused kindly, excusing himself with obligations. His father and brother would starve without him and although they treated him horribly, they were still his family. So, they reluctantly left him and Paul apologized again, wishing Ringo an early happy seventeenth.

Dot sent him a letter from Germany where she went on vacation, but would be back in time for Ringo’s party. Paul was glad she sounded happy. A vacation sounded nice.

Another few days passed and Paul continued to work in the garden, humming new songs or playing guitar for the birds and nosy neighbors.

Ivan came by one lazy and unusually sunny Saturday. Paul had just woken up and made himself some tea and cereal when a knock rapped at the door. He was still in his pajamas and his hair all messy, quite a sight for Ivan when he was let in the house.

“Uh, hey, Paul. I gotta say, you look rough, mate.”

Paul snorted and punched Ivan on the shoulder. “I literally just got out of bed, you git.”

“Oh!” Ivan pushed past Paul. “Well, I came by to see if you wanted to go see my friend’s band with me today.”

“Sure, come in,” Paul mumbled, following Ivan into the living room.

“Remember that old school friend I told you about last year?”

“Not really, but go on.” Paul sat down next to him.

“Well, I said I wanted you to meet him and his band is playing today. They’re alright, but could definitely use you on guitar. So, if you’re coming, bring your guitar.”

Paul thought about it and was torn between going and not going. “I don’t know, mate. I haven’t much felt like going out lately.”

“Come on!” Ivan begged, “I don’t want to show up alone.”

“George is always an option.”

“He’s with Ringo, it’s almost his birthday.”

“Right.” Paul gave in. “Alright, I’ll go. Let me get ready. Give me an hour.”

“Gear! Don’t forget your guitar!” Ivan shouted at the figure disappearing up the stairs. He could have sworn he saw a very rude gesture as well.  

~~~~

Paul picked a plain pair of jeans with a black shirt, form-fitting to his torso. He got “muggle-approved” by Ivan and they made their way to where the band played. At the fete, the two boys looked around at the poor excuses for games and rides, but were moderately pleased with the girls saw. Paul turned a few heads and encouraged some winks, much to Ivan’s disdain, since hardly any were for him. He was glad when the music started to play.

“They’re on! Come ‘ead, Paul.”

The singing started before they got to the makeshift stage and Paul had to stop. He knew that voice, knew it like the back of his hand. He’d heard it calling his name.

“Paul, mate, we’re gonna miss them.”

“I-Ivan, what’s your friend’s name?” Paul felt sick to his stomach.

“Uh, John. Why?”

Paul whined. “I’m not sure…” He backed away.

“John’s not gonna bite you. Where the hell is this coming from?” Ivan dragged Paul towards the stage and, reluctantly, Paul followed, his heart leaping out of his chest. It didn’t dawn on him that today was the sixth. In fact, he’d kept himself so busy so he didn’t have time to think about John at all.

He came into view and Paul wanted to run. Dot was right, as always. John was stunning. The auburn hair, the freckles, they were all there, just as he’d seen. He had a roman nose and thin mouth, with eyes to compliment his hair. Paul couldn’t believe this was John. He noticeably shook next to Ivan.

“What’s up, Paul? Why’re you shaking? Are you having a fit or something?”

“I’m fine.” Paul forced himself to stand still and focus on the music which John barely knew the words to, but whatever he did worked. He also noticed that he played banjo chords on his guitar.

Ivan made the connection. “John’s as straight as they come, Paulie. He’ll bash your head in if you try anything.”

A little something in Paul broke, no matter how much he prepared himself for the possibility. “I know my boundaries. Have a little faith in me, Ivan. Unlike you, I can keep it in my pants.”

Ivan cackled. “It’s hard to when you’re looking at him like that.”

“Piss off.” Paul smiled, hiding the fact that he really, _really_ wanted to vomit. Ivan being there with him was a blessing. There was no way he could have done this on his own. He reminded himself to relax and breathe.

The band finished and Paul debated sneaking away and just leaving.

“Let’s meet him, then.” Ivan dragged him off to the back of a church which the band used as a ready room or rehearsal room of some sort. They were drinking, Paul could tell, based on the smell coming from the room. Nerves hit him again and his hands sweated.

“Ivan!” John’s voice echoed loud throughout the room. “This your new girlfriend?”

The others in the room laughed at the joke, minus Ivan and Paul. Paul wouldn’t stand to be insulted and almost walked out.

Ivan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an arse. This is the guy I told you about. The guitar player.”

Paul slipped his guitar around front with a nudge from Ivan.

John snorted. “He can’t be that good if he’s got it on backwards.”

“Well, I guess I could say the same about you,” Paul shot back, flirting just a little, “not knowing a left-handed person from a right-handed one. Ivan didn’t tell me you were directionally challenged.”

John squinted his eyes, not used to being talked back to, especially by a younger lad. “Fine, play.”

Paul nodded and hoped he wouldn’t miss a single note:

_Well I’ve got a girl with a record machine_

_When it comes to rockin’, she’s the queen_

_We love to dance on a Saturday night_

_All alone I can hold her tight_

_But she lives in a twentieth floor up town_

_The elevator’s broken down_

_So I walked one, two flight, three flight, four_

_Five, six, seven flight, eight flight more_

_Up on the twelfth, I started to drag_

_Fifteenth floor, I’m ready to sag_

_Get to the top, I’m ready to rock_

And he didn’t. His sweaty fingers held onto his guitar, obeying his command. When he looked up, John definitely looked impressed.

He walked forward, squinting his eyes to get a better look at Paul and held out his hand.

“John Lennon.”


	2. What Would Your Answer Be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this took forever to type.... enjoy!
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP

“Paul McCartney.”

Paul couldn’t stop staring at John, no matter how much of a jerk he had been and John knew it, knew he had some kind of power over Paul. He instructed Paul to join him at the piano, wanting to hear another song. Paul played random notes, his attention focused on the other person sitting with him on the piano bench. John smelt of cheap beer and tobacco. A smell that really made Paul want to puke.

“You’re good, kid. A real professional.” John was drunk, but coherent.

“Thanks.” Paul didn’t make eye contact with him, but knew John’s eyes were on him, studying. They stayed there, urging, no demanding, Paul look into them. The young wizard gave in.

“But you’re young. Just a kid.” John said, just after Paul looked up.

Paul stopped his hands on the piano and stood up. “Fine. I need to get home anyway. See you ‘round, John Lennon.” He could tell John wanted to say something. When he didn’t, Paul sighed and took his guitar with him. At least Ringo’s party would distract him from the truth…John was an ass.

****

Tomorrow came quick as the hours of the night passed on, 1, 2, 3, 4. Sleep wouldn’t come because John was the only thing Paul could think about. John. John. John. He had to do something. It turned Ringo’s birthday hours ago and he couldn’t be moping around, ruining everyone’s time.

Seven finally brought sleep for him and it seemed like only fifteen minutes passed before a loud knock and the doorbell rumbled through the house. He grumbled, upset that someone like John kept him up all night.

Ivan and Dot stood on his front porch when he opened the door. Paul had no idea why they were there so early.

“Paul! You’re not even dressed yet?” Dot somewhat yelled.

“What? What time is it?” Paul looked worse than he did when Ivan stopped by yesterday with his hair all ruffled and his cheek red, lined with the indentions from his bedsheets.

“One. Ringo’s party’s at 1:30, mate.” Ivan was shocked at Paul’s lateness _and_ forgetfulness.

“Shit. You two go on. I’ll be there. Tell George and Ringo I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well, and that I’ll be there by two.” Paul didn’t think he could feel more embarrassed, Ringo was his best friend’s boyfriend and one on his best friends, too.

“Ivan, you go on. I’ll wait here for Paul.” Dot could tell something was up with Paul. He doesn’t just randomly sleep till one in the afternoon.

“I think he can find his way there, Dot.” Ivan complained.

“He’ll probably get lost if someone’s not with him,” Dot joked.

“I’m right here, you know,” Paul protested, “I could get to George’s in my sleep.”

“Apparently not…” Ivan mused.

“Shut up, I’m gonna get a shower.”

Ivan decided to leave, because without Paul, he could have first pick of the girls that were invited.

Dot wanted to know what happened with Paul since Ivan told her Paul was fine yesterday. She listened to the shower running, contemplating what to say. Things were a bit awkward between them since the breakup, what with not really knowing how to act as ‘just friends’. They managed, though, and she still cared about Paul and he about her.

Paul came back down and Dot realized he _still_ had his baby fat, but grew a little bit taller. As for her, she found it adorable, though Paul would state otherwise.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready.” Paul grabbed his jacket and wand.

Dot decided to get right to the point. “So…what’s got you so upset?”

“‘m not upset. It’s nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.” Paul bickered back like a five-year-old.

“You’re lying to me, James Paul McCartney.”

“Fine. Alright. I met John yesterday.”

Dot almost smacked herself, July sixth was yesterday. “And?”

“And nothing. He’s an arsehole and a snob. I think his ego could rival that of the Malfoy’s.”

“Paul, I’m sorry. I know how much you’ve been relying on this guy. Maybe there’s still hope, you’ve only just met.”

Paul nodded. “Told me that I was just a kid and too young to be in his band. I left after that, it’s not like I could anyway, going to Hogwarts.”

“He’s bound to come ‘round to you. Everybody always does.”

~~~~

Ringo’s birthday party succeeded in taking Paul’s mind off John and he actually enjoyed himself. He and George played a guitar duet for Ringo, with George singing vocals. It was simply happy birthday, but after, the room got quiet as George took on a solo of a song he wrote, given only a little input from Paul. The song was good and worked, because the couple disappeared afterwards. Paul wondered if it was by magic or not since Ringo turned seventeen.

Mostly, Paul hung around Ivan and the Weasley twins. They joked a lot and played pranks which were very entertaining. Needless to say, Paul didn’t want to leave. Being home meant he’d be alone with his thoughts and his thoughts liked to turn to John. He asked Ivan at the party if John said anything about him. Ivan responded that he hadn’t heard from John at all since yesterday. ‘Are you still hung up on him?’ Ivan had asked and Paul didn’t really have an answer or he did and he didn’t want to admit it.

****

Jim and Mike came back around mid-July and Paul hadn’t seen or heard from John Lennon since the sixth. Nothing really changed, his family still ignored him, unless Jim was drunk.

One night got particularly bad when Jim threw the empty firewhiskey bottle at his head. Thankfully, it missed and Paul ran out of the house, not going anywhere specific.

The night was abnormally warm and Paul just walked. He should have paid attention to where he went, laying bread crumbs, or pebbles, just in case he got lost.

Paul didn’t realize how far he walked till he got to Strawberry Fields. Shrugging, he went on, not expecting anyone to be there, giving him a place to himself. And he did, until a shuffle of leaves and twigs echoed behind him.

Out of pure reaction, Paul whipped out his wand at the intruder and lowered it, realizing who it was.

“John?”

The other boy got a pair of glasses from his pocket. “Paul, right? Why’re you pointing a stick at me?”

“I…no reason. What are you doing here?” If John saw Paul slip his wand back in his pocket, he didn’t say anything.

“I should be asking you that. No one’s ever here at this time…except me.” John walked closer, glasses still on.

“Just going on a walk. Needed some air.”

John got a better look at Paul under the moonlight. He had a black eye and a split lip.

“Did you go a couple rounds with a bear?” John asked.

“Last time I checked, it was none of your business.” Paul started to walk away. Being subject to John’s ridicule wasn’t on the top of his list for the night.

“Hey!” John called after him. “Fine. Okay? I won’t ask.”

“Thanks…” Paul wondered why John acted sincere all of a sudden. Definitely not the person he met a few weeks ago.

“I’ve tried to get ahold of you, but Ivan said you didn’t have a phone?”

“My da’s old-fashioned.” No matter how much John’s attitude changed, Paul’s wasn’t. Being short with John seemed only reasonable.

“Right, well-.”

“If I’m just a silly child, why are you talking to me?” Paul snapped.

“I don’t think I ever said that. I said you were a kid, but you’re good. Age is trivial, a concept, especially when you’re that good.”

“You could’ve started with that, you know.”

“Do you want to be in my band or not?”

Paul’s insides wanted to explode. “I go away to school. September to May. As much as I want to say yes, I’d have to bail during most of the year.”

“I know. Ivan told me you go to the same school. I figured if you taught me those chords, I could do your part until you came back.” John shifted his weight, hopeful Paul would agree.

“Alright. You’re playing on banjo chords, anyroad. You also need to tune your guitar.”

John smiled and led Paul to a hidden spot within Strawberry Fields. He’d brought his guitar, informing Paul he also came here to think and play. They worked on a few songs and chords and Paul saw what Dot meant. It baffled him as to why John acted so differently now than he did at the fete. Regardless, he liked this John, attentive and quick. He absorbed and mastered everything that Paul taught him.

As John repeated a couple chords over and over Paul asked, “Where’d you learn to play the banjo?”

“My mum taught me. Where’d you learn?”

“My mum encouraged it, so I learned by listening to the radio, picking up whatever I could.”

“She must be impressed now…”

A sad smile graced Paul’s lips. “I think she would be, yeah.”

“Would be?” John stopped playing, unsure what Paul meant.

“She, um, died last year…cancer.”

The air around them grew tense and awkward. Neither boy knew what to say to the other.

“I-.” John wanted to give something.

“Please don’t say I’m sorry,” Paul interrupted, “It’s all I’ve heard for the past year and frankly, I can’t stand it. Especially when they never mean it.”

“Thing is, though, I do…mean it, that is.” John’s comfort level decreased as the conversation turned too sentimental for him. “Am I doing this right?”

He changed the subject and Paul was glad. “Oh, uh, no. Do you mind?” He reached his hands up to position John’s.

“No.”

They didn’t talk much after that except for spotted questions about music. Paul spent his time listening to John play and watching the stars. He didn’t want to ruin this. This was partly how he imagined John. Kind and mysterious, for lack of a better word.

“Are you there, McCartney?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you knew it was two in the morning?”

“Shit!” Paul scrambled himself up off the ground. “Dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Calm down, mate! Hold on.” John grabbed Paul’s sleeve.

Paul tugged away. “Just ask Ivan to get me messages. He knows how.”

“No. Why don’t you just stay at mine? It’s closer, anyway.”

“What? Seriously?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

Paul smiled a bit. “Well you are pretty cruel.”

John broke out in laughter. “And don’t you forget it, Macca.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, after this chapter will be a bit of a decrease in updates. I'm officially in school now... boo. I'll update when I can.
> 
>  
> 
> <3 RingosLiverpool8


	3. If You Were Here Today Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a filler chapter for you guys. I'm literally able to write like 100 words per week. I really hate college.... It'll be the death of me.
> 
>  
> 
> I don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP

So many things happened for Paul after that night with John. John started communicating regularly, inviting him out, and, he even bought Paul his first muggle beer. And the second. And the third. Paul found it rather disgusting, but in an attempt to be muggle-like, he drank them. That was the second night Paul spent at John’s, the first night after the ‘Park Incident’, he just slept on the floor. 

John’s Aunt Mimi eyed him curiously, as if she knew something or recognized him from somewhere else. Paul let it go, too tired and drunk to really care. He stumbled into John’s room behind John. The details of the room were much more interesting than before and he noticed more. 

It was a mess. John had an overflowing wastebasket and dirty clothes both in the hamper and littered on the floor. A slight sense of disgust came over Paul as he remembered he slept on the floor not but a few weeks ago. Paul reached out to grab a pillow when a hand slapped him away.

“I have to sleep on your nasty floor without a pillow?” The alcohol he consumed steadily cleared from his mind and he guessed it might not have much of an effect on wizards. Paul really didn’t know.

“No…you can sleep in the bed.” John mumbled back, already lying on top of the sheets, half his face buried into his pillow.

Paul tried to keep his emotions in check. “And, um, where do you plan to sleep?”

“Right ‘ere.” 

“Oh,” Paul sat down slowly on the twin mattress. “It’s a bit small…”

“Are ya callin’ me fat, son?” John snorted, letting Paul know he was kidding.

Paul smiled. “Yeah, you’re a right elephant.” He paused for a moment. “Why did you make me sleep on the floor last time?”

John pushed his nose into the pillow, muffling his voice. “I didn’t make you do nothin’. You were passed out on the floor before I even got back from the bathroom, mate.” 

“I guess I did. Well, thanks for letting me stay, anyroad.” 

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and go to sleep before I make you sleep in the dog house.”

Paul laid on his side with his back to John and yawned. “You don’t have a dog.”

John slapped the back of Paul’s head and snickered. “Don’t be cheeky.”

“Goodnight, John.”

“G’night, Macca.”

Paul drifted off into a conscious sleep, sure that sometime in the night he heard John get up and come back. In that time, he did wake up to a pair of arms tugging him closer and drifting back to sleep, he could have sworn John lightly kissed the back of his neck. As for Paul though, he knew what tricks dreams could play on a wizard’s senses. Dumbledore told him not to dwell on dreams, and he didn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this bit of fluffiness!


	4. If You Were Here Today Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... yeah
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP

Paul was a Slytherin prefect and he should be happy, but leaving John for almost a whole year made his heart ache just a little. He and John grew close. Close enough to where John called him his best friend.

John didn’t have a clue of what Paul really was, but Paul always suspected that he knew something was off based on the comments John would make to him. Like, “I’ve never been to yours, you know?” or “I still don’t understand why you haven’t got a phone.” Paul would shrug off the comments with lame excuses, only adding to John’s mental case-file on Paul.

In a few weeks, Paul would be boarding the train to Hogwarts and he tried to at least somewhat enjoy it.

“Why don’t we play a bit?” George tried to suggest one afternoon. Ringo had gone on vacation for the last few weeks of the summer, so George spent more time with Paul. They sat in George’s backyard, taking in the sun and warmth while they could.

Paul grunted, playing with the grass blades he pulled up.

George slapped the grass from his hands. “Stop tearing up the grass, Paul, and get over whatever it is that’s bothering you.” He huffed, “What is bothering you?”

“John.”

“Dear Merlin, not again...”

“It’s so hard, Geo, and I’m so confused. The dreams have stopped since we’ve met and I don’t know how to act. John makes these ambiguous actions and comments and I don’t know whether I should ignore them or not.

“Geo, I’m upset about leaving. His other bandmates don’t like me, with the exception of Nigel - but I don’t know what that’s about – and I’m afraid that they’ll convince John that I’m not worth holding the spot for.”

“Eesh, Paulie…” George rubbed his temples. He knew the relationship was complicated but not this complicated. “If John really does consider you a friend and a close one at that, you’ve got nothing to worry about. As for the other part…let him make the first move. Paul, he makes you happy and not the fake happiness you had with Zander. I don’t want to see that gone again.”

Paul flopped face down on the ground. “I hate when you’re right.”

“Are you five, Paul?”

“What?”

“You’re acting like you’re going to start kicking and screaming on the ground, there.”

“Don’t put it past me.”

~~~~

“Ivan! Hey! Ivan!”

The young Gryffindor groaned and stomped around, dramatically. He wasn’t happy that his evening to himself was being ruined by someone else. He squinted his eyes at the figure running towards him and Ivan supposed he had time for John.

“Ivan…” he breathed heavily from sprinting down the empty street. “Ivan…have you heard from Paul?”

“No, why?” Ivan popped flavored bean into his mouth. “Ugh, grass…”

“Grass?” John questioned.

“It tasted…never mind. I haven’t heard from Paul, not since last week. We leave for school tomorrow so I’ll see him then.”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen him since then either and he missed practice yesterday… I’m just…I don’t know…worried, I guess.” John took an interest in his hands to avoid Ivan’s eyes.

“The Great John Lennon is _worried_ …about _Paul?_ Hmmm…do you fancy him, Lennon?” Ivan teased, not expecting to get any reaction that would confirm his question. But, when John didn’t answer, Ivan’s features turned serious. “John? Do you like Paul?”

“Maybe a little, er, a lot…but you can’t tell him, alright? He’d probably hate me for it.”

“John, but…”

“No buts, you can’t tell him.”

“John, Paul…”

“Ivan!”

“Alright! Fine…” Ivan tried his best to get in a word that Paul felt the same way. As someone who lives on other people’s drama, Ivan thought he’d be more excited about being the secret keeper between the two. However, he felt more disheartened by the whole thing. John and Paul obviously made each other happy, and now Ivan had promised to basically keep them apart.

“Let me see if Paul’s okay, eh? I’ll come straight to yours after, okay?” Ivan suggested and started to walk away.

“With Paul if you can!” The older boy called after him. Ivan rolled his eyes…John and Paul were hopeless.

~~~~

How his father found out about John, Paul didn’t know. But if he had to guess, he would probably blame Mike. The pain in the ass probably followed him. Regardless, he hadn’t been able to leave the house nor write to George or Ivan. There was no way they could see him like this anyway.

Jim McCartney did a number on his face with a broken bottle and a bony fist.

Paul hadn’t left his room much during the past week, wanting to avoid his brother and father as much as possible. He only left to relieve himself or to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner. However, today was different, Jim and Mike left the house. They left Paul alone.

Taking the advantage, he threw his things in his trunk to stay at George’s and leave for Hogwarts from his house. It was nighttime when he got ready to go, he had to make dinner and breakfast for his family before leaving. Paul made sure he put in all his books and robes and grab his cat. He couldn’t leave her behind. Sprinting down the stairs, trunk clunking behind him, Paul headed straight for the front door. In haste, he barreled right into someone, knocking them down onto the pavement.

“Ivan!” Paul hoisted his friend up.

“Ya tryin’ to kill me, McCartney?” Ivan chuckled and dusted off his pants.

“I…no. What are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you. Haven’t heard from you in a week. Your other half ‘as been bugging me about it.” Ivan looked back up and his eyes widened at the fading blue and black marks on his friend’s usually pale and clear skin. “Paul…”

“Don’t.”

“What happ…”

Paul’s eyes lost their glitter, replaced by a commanding blackness. “I said don’t.”

For the first time, Ivan was actually afraid of Paul. He’d never thought of Paul as potentially dangerous, but something had changed. Something, Ivan was sure had to do with his father. He shook his head, acknowledging Paul’s demand.

“Now, come on. I need to get to George’s before my father and brother come back.” The young Slytherin marched past Ivan with a curt nod and a pat on the shoulder. His trunk trailed behind him.

“John wants to see you.” Ivan suddenly called behind him.

Paul glanced behind, the usual gleam in his eyes illuminated once more under the moonlight. “Okay…I’ll stay at John’s. Come on then!”

The tired Gryffindor slid his hands down his face, it was going to be a long night. How he wished he could be a fly on the wall. On second thought, maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
>  
> 
> This year is going to be a long one.....


	5. Well Knowing You, You'd Probably Laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So it's been a while, but my semester is coming to a close (finals start Tuesday) and then I get TWO MONTHS off school before I go to study in Germany. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and I'll try to work some more after this or next week.
> 
> As always, I don't own HP or the Beatles and assoc.

The pair of wizards started to make their way down Paul’s street when a loud screech and a bright light stopped them in their tracks. The Slytherin smiled broadly at the sight of a purple double decker bus. The doors flung open and a shrunken head’s laughter broke the silence of the night.

A lanky, greasy man stepped off the bus and pulled a small piece of parchment from his cloak pocket. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this evening.” The man looked over at the two Hogwarts students. “Aye, Paulie! You runnin’ off ag’in, mate?”

Paul chuckled. “What else would I be doing at this time of night, Stan?” Ivan looked over at his friend and wondered how many times Paul had actually been on this thing. He’d certainly never seen it before, but he’d also never known the pain and suffering Paul had.

They’d boarded the bus and Paul had made himself comfortable on one of the beds on the first tier of the bus. “10 Menlove Avenue.”

“Ya hear tha’ Ernie!” Stan yelled to the odd bespectacled man driving the bus.

Without warning and much to Ivan’s surprise the bus took off at record breaking speeds, weaving between alleyways and other cars. Funnily enough, the muggles never noticed them. Ivan got a little light headed, but Paul did not. The Slytherin was lying down on a bed, reading the Daily Prophet. Within a few moments, they were there outside John’s house.

“10 Menlove Avenue, Paulie.” Stan grabbed Paul’s trunk, ushering the boys of the bus. With a grunt, he set the trunk down on the sidewalk. “‘right. I’ll be needin’ payment.”

Paul dug out a four Sickles for the two of them. “That should cover it.”

Stan snatched the money and tipped his hat to the young wizards before disappearing in a flash down Menlove. Ivan shook his head, he was a half-blood but could always be surprised by the wonders of the wizarding world. By the time Ivan looked back around, Paul was making his way up to John’s door.

Ivan ran to meet him. “Uh, Paul? How’re you going to explain the big trunk and-”

“Not the first time I’ve stayed at John’s, Ivan. ‘ve gotten pretty good at keeping John ignorant.” Paul replied to a wide-eyed Ivan. “What are you staring at?”

“Keeping me ignorant of what?” A voice from behind Paul caused his face to fall. He turned around to face the auburn-haired boy. John’s eyebrow was raised but soon fell as he noticed the abnormal colors on Paul’s face.

He reached out to touch the bruises, his voice small and quiet. “Who-who did this?”

"It’s not a big deal, John.” The younger replied rather abrasive.

John suddenly raised his voice, making the other two jump. “Obviously, it is Paul! You’ve just told me that it’s happened multiple times.”

“Well what’s it to you, John? Why should you care?” Paul shot back.

As the third party, Ivan slowly backed away. As much as he thrived on other’s drama, this was not a fight he wanted to get in the middle of. So, he didn’t. Slowly backing away and then running was the best option.

As Ivan ran off, the argument between Paul and John began to disturb the peace for John’s aunt. She rapidly tapped on the window to let them know that they were being much too loud and they were going to cause the whole neighborhood to talk.

“Come inside.” John stated rather than suggested.

Paul stood in his place. “Why? So you can – ”

Aggravated, John interrupted him’ “Just come inside you twit!”

“Fine.” The wizard hauled his trunk behind him and carried his guitar in the other hand into John’s house. He'd been there multiple times but could never quite attribute it to John. All of the decorations and flowers and frilly doilies just didn't match John at all. However, as much as John said his aunt hated him, there were certainly a lot of pictures of him around the place.

“Does your little friend want anything to eat, John?” She didn't particularly like Paul, either, apparently.

“Paul, you hungry?” John asked more exhausted than angry.

Paul knitted his eyebrows pensively at John and addressed his aunt politely, thankful she didn’t ask about his face. “No. ‘m alright. Thank you, ma’am.”

Without so much as a word to them, she stalked off towards the kitchen. Before Paul could reach for his trunk, John grabbed it first and began to drag it up the stairs. They'd fought before, but this time Paul knows something's different and he'd have to notice the elephant in the room sometime.

John's room always made his heart leap just a little. It was still littered with dirty laundry and the floor visible under the rest of the crap there, but his desk was rather tidy. His writing and art utensils sat neatly in a cracked mug and a picture of a woman with red hair sat in the corner. Paul knew her to be John’s mother.

“Are you going to sit or just stand there at the door?” John crooked an eyebrow at him.

Paul sat his guitar down in the corner and joined John on the bed, sitting next to him, legs touching. “I know you’re worried about me, John. But as you realized, I'm - it's not my first go ‘round with this.”

After a few deafeningly silent moments John spoke quiet. “You don't deserve to be hit.”

“What?” Paul heard him but a small part of him needed to hear it again.

“I said you don't deserve to be hit, Paulie. You of all people, who cares, loves, unconditionally about people who don't deserve it.” By this point, John was looking Paul in the eye, sincerity and a little bit of sadness pouring out of his chocolate eyes.

“I don't know what to say.” This John was rare, as Paul had been told. Ivan had said there were moments when John could be just as soft and caring as the next person. But those moments rarely came and when they did, they disappeared, never to be talked about again.

“Promise me you won't go back there.”

John's plea took Paul by surprise. “They're my family…”

“I don't care. I can't lose you, too.”

“John -”

“Live with me. Here. I'm sure Mimi won't mind. We can transfer you to my school and –”

Paul placed a hand on John's shoulder and although he told himself that he'd never use his curse on John, he was desperate. “It's not that simple, John. You can't just  transfer from my school and anyways I'll be okay.”

“There's always a way. I can't make sure you're okay while you're at school in London, Paul.”

Paul sat back as John was unfazed by the curse. “John, I really will be okay. I love my school and my friends are there, Ivan…. Ivan. Wait. Did we leave him standing outside?”

John snapped his head up and stared at the door before taking off back downstairs and leaving Paul behind on the bed. He scratched the side of his face and winced. There was a cut there and he felt the fresh blood on his fingers and got up to use the restroom. He'd opened the wound pretty badly. Paul grabbed a wad of toilet paper to pressure the wound, berating himself for opening it. Looking around, he took a spot on the toilet. The bathroom was a dull yellowish color and looked like it hadn't been changed since the 60s. But it just fit with the rest of the place. Paul knew Mimi was no fool when it came to decorating her house and Paul rather admired her for it. Everything was neat and where it was supposed to be, just the way Paul liked his things.

Lifting off the wad of toilet paper, Paul had gotten the bleeding to stop but the cut still looked irritated and red. He threw the bloody toilet paper in the toilet and before he was about to flush, John came bursting in with pink cheeks and heavy breathing.

“I thou-I thought you left.”

“No.” Paul waltzed past him and back towards John’s room. “I had to pee. And you would have seen more of me than you probably would have wanted if you came in just a few seconds earlier.”

John smiled. “Probably not. I'm sure I'd need a magnifying glass.”

“Oi! And who says I wouldn't need one.” Paul retaliated.

“I have witnesses.” The older boy flopped down on his mattress.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Right. Witnesses.”

John rolled over on his side. “They'll tell you I'm-”

“Sure. I believe you.” Paul blushed a little at the shameless flirting he just partook in.

With a smirk, John replied. “I don't think you do, son.”

“I swear to Merlin if you flash me, I will kick you.”

“Swear to who?” The auburn-haired boy swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up looking at his friend in confusion.

Paul could have kicked himself. “Merlin. Just a saying in my family, an inside joke if you must.”

“I feel like you're lying to me again.”

“I'm not, John. I promise.” The way John looked at him made his insides squirm. With one look John made Paul want to break the law. But he did have to wonder what would happen if he did tell John about the wizarding world.

“How long are you staying here?” John broke his thoughts.

“Tonight. I have to leave for school tomorrow. I've got a train ticket for seven in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Paul sat next to John who was looking a bit depressed. “I'll write and I'll be back for Christmas. The band won't be terrible without me. They've got you.”

“Not concerned about the band. I feel like I've just…I sound like a girl… you're me best mate, Paul, and now you're leaving.”

Paul scoffed. “Not forever! You make it sound like I'm dying.”

The muggle boy’s eyes widened. “You could die and I'd never know!”

“I'm not going to die, John.” Paul stated bluntly, a little fed up with the way John was acting. “What's this about anyway?”

“You'll replace me, find someone else.”

“Bloody hell, John, I couldn't replace you. Even if I tried, there wouldn't be anyone who could annoy me as much as you do.”

John looked up from his hands to Paul who was wearing a sly grin and with a nice hard shove from the former, Paul was on the floor in a fit of giggles. Slowly, but surely, John joined in.

An idea struck John as he had his friend in the perfect position. He launched himself off the bed and began to ruthlessly tickle Paul’s sides. The younger one yelped in surprise and failed to escape.

“John! Stop it! Stop! I-haha-I can't fucking breathe!”

John flipped Paul over on his back and straddled him. “Do I still annoy you?”

“Yes.” The tickling started again. “N-no! No!”

“Good. Now what were you saying McCharmly?”

“I was saying I'll miss you, too.”

“It's only three months, Paul. No need to get clingy.” John said with a shit-eating grin.

Paul narrowed his eyes and then turned around to get his pajamas out of his trunk. “I really hate you, you know that?”

“I do, Macca, I do.” John replied as Paul walked out the door to go to the bathroom. “Although, I don't think you know how much you mean to me.” He glanced over at the open trunk and tried his best to refrain from taking a peek. The trunk, a faded shade of brown, was intriguing to him, it would offer more information on who exactly Paul was. John decided he’d just go over there and close it and if he happened to see inside, it was just a consequence of being nice.

He laid his hand on the open lid of the trunk and looked down. Right on top was a wooden stick. A memory flashed into his mind of the second time he met Paul. He’d scared Paul and he’d pointed a stick at him and John was pretty sure it was the same stick.

“What on Earth?” John whispered to himself as a book labeled _Advanced Potion Making_ stuck out from underneath a black cloak. He desperately wanted to dig deeper, literally and figuratively, but he heard footsteps in the hallway. Thank God Paul had a heavy step. John threw the stick back in the trunk and jumped and landed face first on the bed.

Paul chuckled at the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Napping. You took so long in there, I figured I’d just have a kip.”

“Arsehole.” Paul rolled his eyes and began kicking stuff around by the edge of the bed. “You could have at least cleaned me up a spot down here on this disgusting floor of yours.”

“Well, if you want to sleep on my floor, be my guest, but I think you just might be able to fit on the other side of the bed. ‘m not adverse to sharing, you know…that is unless you kick, then you’re on the floor.”

“I’ll be as still as a mouse.”

John got up and grabbed his guitar. “Not ready to go to sleep yet. I’ll be quiet.”

“No. Since you want me to sleep with you, I figured the least you could do was sing me to sleep.”

“Git.”

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

“’night, Macca.”

Paul closed his eyes and wrapped himself up in John’s bedsheets. They were soft and smelled like hazelnut and chocolate, they smelled like John. His exhaustion from the week attacked his body quickly and the last thing he remembered was John’s singing:

_You’ve really got a hold on me…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He's Leaving Home" should also be updated soon. I gotta figure out some more things before I post. 
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Holidays! <3 RingosLiverpool8


	6. And Say That We Worlds Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Here's the next part! Enjoy! This one's a bit shorter than the other one.
> 
> Don't own HP or the Beatles

Paul woke up very cozy and as his brain began to recognize his surroundings, he realized he was being held tight around the waist. Warmth also blew across his scalp due to John having buried his head in Paul’s hair. A mixture of tobacco and John’s shampoo flooded his senses and he figured John must’ve smoked a lot last night. Paul knew John only smoked a lot when there was something bothering him or he was deep in thought. George smoked, too, and both had tried to get Paul to try it. They succeeded and much to Paul’s embarrassment, nearly coughed up his right lung.

Smiling at the memory, he missed John waking up, meaning that Paul was caught smiling into John’s chest. But, the response he got was not expected.

“Do you have to go?” John’s voice mumbled into his head.

Paul sighed, lifting his head up a little to look his friend in the eyes. “The train leaves at exactly 11 o’clock.” 

“Then why are you leaving at seven? And trains never leave on time.”

“My school’s just outside of London and this one does.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“John…” Paul pushed himself away from John who groaned at the loss of body heat. 

“Why can’t I?”

“Because…I-”

“Because of those books in your trunk?” John clapped his hand over his mouth and cursed himself.

The other boy’s eyes got wide, but he remained eerily quiet. “You…you looked in my trunk?”

“I’m sorry, Paulie. I went over there to close it and I looked down and saw somethin’ about potions. That was all.”

“I should go.” The young Slytherin didn’t know how to react. He sat with his back to John, just breathing. Laws stood in his way, laws meant to protect him and John. Paul stood up and grabbed his clothes which were laying on top of his trunk and wordlessly left to go to the bathroom. Keeping his head down, he ran into John’s Aunt. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, I apologize. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“Is everything alright?” She asked, sensing the distress the boy was in. Paul made eye contact with her but not before he caught a glimpse of a slender, light wood peeking out from her coat. 

“You-you’re a witch?” he whispered excitedly but thought for a moment. “Does John…?”

Mimi pulled him farther away from John’s door and spoke quietly. “No. I am the only one in the family. His mother, my sister, tried to make John perform magic, but was making him a neurotic child by doing so. I had to take him away from her. John, of course, blames me for taking him away from his mother. He doesn’t know anything about our world and I intend to keep it that way. So, I ask again, is everything alright?”

“John got into my trunk last night.”

With a nod, Mimi called out, “John, come downstairs and help me get some things down from the top shelf.” She reduced to a whisper, “I’m just going to alter his memory to where he thinks he saw Chemistry instruments.”

“Thank you.” Paul curtly bowed and scurried off into the bathroom. He’d found himself an unlikely ally.

~~~~

Unfortunately, Paul did have to board the same train as his brother and father and sit in the same compartment. No words were exchanged between them; however, Paul could feel the burning rage coming off his father. His eldest son was a disobedient, muggle-loving, blood-traitor and he couldn’t wait until Paul was seventeen. At least, that’s what Paul thought. 

At King’s Cross, he walked a few paces behind his family, not wanting to be mistaken as being a part of the McCartney’s because Paul was sure that his father would squash that assumption as soon as it was made. It was just Jim and Mike and the one that they don’t talk about anymore.

Through the archway, Paul was greeted by the familiar chatter of people and hoots of the train, some of them giving him confused looks as he they probably wondered why there were bruises on his face. Stacking his trunk with the rest of them, Paul boarded the train to his usual compartment. Before he could get there, someone pulled him off to the side.

“George?” Paul asked while being pulled away towards the bathrooms on the train. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.” The Hufflepuff demanded and continued on his mission. Once in the bathroom, he spun Paul around. “Take off your shirt.”

Paul scoffed in disgust. “Excuse me?”

“I said take off your shirt. Now.”

“George, what’s-?” 

George had in his wand in Paul’s face and spoke a spell that Paul didn’t recognize. Instantly, the pressure in his face disappeared. His image in the mirror clear of the bruising and cuts.

“Take off your shirt,” George said again. This time, Paul obeyed and shed his sweater and shirt revealing blemishes of varying sizes and colors. With the few commands from George, they were gone.

“Ta, Geo. Where’d you learn that?” The train’s movement jolted them a little as Paul put his clothes back on. Relief fell over him as it no longer hurt to slide the cloth across his body.

“Ritchie’s mum. She gave me an old book on healing spells. I figured it would help…” Twisting his wand between his fingers, George avoided Paul’s eyes.

Paul pulled his younger friend into a hug and whispered. “You’re a good friend, Geo.”

“’suppose I am.” George quipped back earning a light whack on the arm.

“I’m tryin’ to be sentimental, like, and there ya go ruinin’ it.” 

George smiled his familiar toothy grin. “I’m a born mood killer, son.”

“Git. Come on before we’re missed.”

~~~~ 

The rest of the train ride for Paul was filled with debriefings about prefect duties, but he couldn’t help letting his mind drift to John. He was so close to spilling everything. He would eventually have to tell John especially since his father knew about John. Paul knew Mike would be telling anyone he could about it, meaning specifically Draco Malfoy. The taunts of blood-traitor were already ringing in his ears. The words meant nothing to him, but it would still be annoying to see people snarling at him or even whispering behind his back. 

Paul was prepared to have to take the carriage to the castle by himself, but George and Ringo were waiting for him off the train. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” 

George and Ringo put Paul between them and slung their arms around him. It looked a little awkward as Ringo was shorter than them, but Paul still appreciated the contact.

Ringo spoke. “George ‘n’ I may be many things, but heartless isn’t one of them, mate.”

Paul draped his arms around them in reciprocation and laughed. “I know you aren’t, Rings, but as for Georgie over there it’s questionable.” 

Ringo snorted loudly and earned a nasty look from his boyfriend. “You’re supposed to be on my side Richard Starkey.”

“Sorry, George. Paul, George is as tender and loving as a baby bunny.” Ringo did his best to keep a straight face, which just earned him an even dirtier look.

“Thank you.” Paul said as he squeezed them tighter.

“You’re welcome, Paulie.”

The three of them rode the carriage to the castle, telling jokes and listening to Ringo tell slightly less than fabricated stories about his time in Germany. To Paul, this was what it should be like to have a family. Because blood shouldn’t matter. Neither should who you love.


	7. I Was Trying to Remember How Bad It Was Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a filler... more fun stuff to come later. Ugh I can't wait.

****

The first year Slytherins followed Paul and the other prefect to the dungeons and into the common room. On the way down there, he explained how the castle worked, especially the stairs. The paintings on the wall greeted Paul as he passed, thoroughly amazing the trail of first years behind him. Of course, just by hearing the name “McCartney” made them obedient and a little fearful. Paul, unfortunately, still had to carry his last name.

He had to pretend he didn’t hear the whispers. “Did you hear he forced a kid out of Hogwarts?” and “He’s friends with a mud-blood.”

To the latter comment, Paul spun around. “We will _NOT_ use that language. Do I make myself clear? I am not opposed to taking points on the first day.”

The eleven-year-old’s shook their heads quickly and they fell silent for the time being. He didn’t want to be strict and walk around with a silver spoon up his ass, but there were some things Paul would not put up with. Insulting his friends was one of them.

“The password to our common room changes every two weeks. A notice will be put up with the new password. Be sure to not share the passcode with anyone and never, I repeat, _never_ bring someone from the other houses into the common room. The location and detail of the Slytherin common room has been a secret only for the members of the Slytherin house. For centuries, no one outside the Slytherin house has entered the Slytherin dungeon. You have been put into Slytherin because you’re cunning, resourceful, ambitious, determined, self-preserving, and clever. But above all, we’re a family. I expect to see exactly why you’re standing where you are in everything you do. I am confident we will not be embarrassed by any one of you.” Paul finished his speech and proudly turned to face the entrance to the common room. “Emerald.”

Behind him, the young Slytherins chattered excitedly, all wanting to see the inside of the common room. Paul was slightly jealous because he remembered his first time walking in and seeing the beauty of the black lake and the calmness of the various sounds. He remembered a time when things were easier and less complicated.

The prefects released the eleven-year-olds to their dormitories for the night, for they all had to start class in the morning. Paul entered his room and was met with the faces of the four guys he shared a room with.

“Eh, Paulie! Long time, no see, mate. How’s your summer?” A boy named Clarence asked.

Paul flopped down on his bed. “Good. Not much to tell, though. Pretty much wasted away.”

“Can you believe we’ve got O.W.L.’s this year? I’m not sure what I even want to do.” Clarence addressed not only to Paul, but to the others as well.  A few of them mumbled responses about various jobs and the O.W.L.’s they needed to pass, but Paul let out a small hum. His ambition remained becoming an auror, but that wasn’t something you told a group of boys who would most likely become Death Eaters. That was another thing he had to worry about, too. Would his father even propose it to him?

The green tapestries which hung off his bed became more interesting than the chatter of his friends. It was always dangerous to let his mind wander because it usually wandered to John. Paul wondered what John was doing right then. He wondered if John was thinking of him.

He groaned and turned over onto his side, feeling a little more drained than he thought he was. Not even bothering to get under the covers or take off his clothes, he fell asleep. For the first time since June, he started dreaming about John again, but more vividly. This time Paul felt hyper aware of every touch, sound, and smell radiating from John. What changed, however, was that John looked much older, probably in his thirties. His face looked the same, but took on a few wrinkles around his eyes. The once short auburn hair now hung in longer curls, just brushing his shoulders. Circular glasses sat on the bridge of John’s nose, making him look older and wise. Paul realized he was in a rather large apartment with John sitting at a bar and glancing down at what looked like paper. John seemed happy and Paul would have loved to have just watched him work but the older man jerked, looking directly at him, smiling.

“There’s daddy’s little girl.”

“Me?” Paul asked confused.

“I bet he did. Are you looking forward to staying the weekend with your uncle…” The vision of John slowly started to blur and ripple away, but Paul wanted more information.

“John!” He tried to yell out as the picture faded away to black almost like the end of an old film.

“Paul! Hey, Paul!”

Paul shot straight up in his bed, soaked in sweat and still in his clothes from the night before. Clarence and a few of the others in his dorm hovered over him worried.

“We’ve got defense against the dark arts with the Gryffindors first period.” Clarence spoke softly, concerned about Paul’s health. He looked very pale and exhausted. “You gonna make it, mate?”

“Right, yeah. Give me a few minutes.” Paul mumbled back, rubbing his hands down his face. He felt his joints crack from the odd position he slept in. The dream still rang like an annoying gong in his brain, giving him a pounding headache. After class, Paul knew he’d have to visit Madame Pomfrey.

“Who’s John, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Paul looked up to find everyone had gone except Clarence, who studied him as if he were a complicated logic problem. “Huh?”

“You were yelling the name ‘John’. I was just wondering…”

“I don’t know, really. I must’ve made the name up.” He lied. There was no way he could tell anyone about John. Especially not any of the Slytherins.

“Dreams are funny that way.” The other Slytherin replied, wistful. The whole conversation with Clarence puzzled Paul. They’d never really spoken very much, but now he acted like they’d been friends for years. Shaking off the thought, Paul got himself ready. He was aware of how awkward the atmosphere in the room had turned and he could feel Clarence’s eyes actively try to avoid watching him change. Paul felt an extreme flood of gratitude towards George for clearing up the bruises on his body.

After he got ready, they left the common room together and headed towards their classroom. For the beginning of the walk, there was complete silence except for the occasional swishing of robes on the castle floors.

Paul couldn’t take it anymore. “Is everything okay, Clarence?”

Clarence’s silver eyes met Paul’s hazel ones with a sense of pleading and a little bit of fear. “I just discovered some things this summer and’ve been trying to figure out the best way to approach it.”

“You know full well I’m not a judgmental person. If you need-”

“Would you go on a date with me?” Clarence blurted loudly, immediately putting his face in his hands.

Paul’s expression became a ‘deer-in-headlights’ look. He would never have guessed.

Carefully, Paul pulled the other boy’s hands down to reveal his face which was a bright red. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed.” His first instinct was to reject Clarence, but Paul couldn’t now. Not after seeing how much it took for Clarence to ask him. One date wouldn’t hurt, right?

“How about the first Hogsmeade outing?” He suggested, hoping maybe Clarence would lose interest after one date.

“Wait. Seriously?” Clarence asked in disbelief, red returning to his cheeks.

“Yes.” Paul’s heart ached as he said yes, feeling like he was betraying John in some way.

The pair made their way to the classroom, the tension released from earlier. They walked a little bit closer, too. Paul really wanted to give a chance to the boy beside him, but just knew it’d never work and he’d just be a disappointment to Clarence.

He parted ways with Clarence, making his way to the second row from the front to sit with Ivan who had saved him a seat. “Hey.” Paul said as he put his books down on the other side of the desk.  

“Hi. You’re never usually this late. You okay?” Ivan asked when Paul sat down.

“The dreams are back and Clarence asked me out on a date. How do you think I am.” Paul laid his head down on the desk, still fighting the headache from earlier.

“Merlin’s beard. Clarence? What’d you say?”

“I said yes. I couldn’t say no, Ivan. You should have seen the look on his face.”

“Really, Paul. Why would you say yes if you don’t like him?” Ivan responded angrily.

Paul narrowed his eyes, wondering why Ivan was so mad. “I felt bad.”

“What about John?” Ivan said more at a whisper.

“Obviously, John doesn’t-” Paul got cut off by the professor’s office door flinging open with a bang. He’d forgotten that the guy who wrote all those books was teaching the class. The man sauntered down the stairs from his office, walking in a way that made his robe flutter behind him like a superhero cape. A collection of giggles from various females around the room made Paul want to gag. He looked at Ivan and scoffed quietly.

“Not your type, Paul?” Ivan whispered in his ear.

Paul kicked him under the table, earning him another remark.

“Oh, it’s because you’re no longer the only attractive one in the room.”

Paul kicked him again and glared. “That guy’s as smarmy as they come.”

The man in front of them flicked his robe behind him, flashing a bright white smile and winking. “Gilderoy Lockhart, as you already know.” His eyes naturally rested on the other prettiest face in the room and he extended his hand in front of Paul McCartney’s face. “And you, my boy?”

Paul looked up from the hand with the bitchiest face he could muster. “Paul McCartney.” Next to him, Ivan had to put a hand to his mouth to stop from snickering at the amount of sass decorating Paul’s words and the fact that Paul didn’t take his hand.

A small flash of fear tinged Lockhart’s face for a fraction of a second, before resuming his cocky grin. He definitely recognized Paul’s surname.

“Well, Mr. McCartney. I’m going to show you how not only to pass your O.W.Ls but also give you useful skills which will guide and protect you against the foulest creatures and spells known to mankind.”

The professor turned his back to the students and Paul leaned over to Ivan. “I bet he says that to all the guys.”

“Paul!” Ivan could barely contain his laughter. “You’re supposed to be a Prefect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be scared! Nothing's gonna happen with Clarence and Paul. Except something I think is kind of funny.


	8. And I Am Holding Back The Tears No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you remember what else happened when Paul was 15????? ;)
> 
> Don't own the Beatles or HP.

> _Paul,_
> 
> _I did what you told me to do and I hope this letter gets to you._
> 
> _Well, the band’s doing alright but I keep cocking up on your parts. We’ve had an offer to be regulars at The Cavern, though…after I told them we had a better player joining us in the summers and during Christmas. Is it soft of me to say I miss you? It’s been dull around here without me best mate. I mean it’s not incredibly lonely but no one else puts up with my genius plans. ‘That’s illegal, John!’, ‘I’d rather pull a bird, John!’. Whatever. You owe me when you get back for Christmas, Paulie._
> 
> _You may even have a pressie waiting for ya!_
> 
> _John._

Paul read the letter over and over again. It was short but he didn’t expect anything less from Lennon. It had only been a week since he’d started school but he did miss John. A lot more than he’d like to admit.

“What’d he say?” George asked through a bite of a turkey sandwich.

“Uh, not much. Just about the band. Says it’s been pretty boring at home and that he’s looking forward to Christmas.” Paul stuck the piece of parchment in his potions book and laid back against the tree he and George sat under. It would probably be the last comfortable fall day they would get for the rest of the year.

“So, when’s your date with Clarence?”

McCartney opened his eyes and sighed. “Two weeks. I’m not looking forward to it, either, George. I just don’t want to hurt him, you know. He just seems so excited about it…” His temples throbbed and he rubbed small circles on them.

“Well he might realize everything when you have the date, like you said.”

“I certainly hope you’re right.”

~~~~

George Harrison planned his day to be a relaxing one, no people to worry about – except Ringo of course – and for Merlin’s sake, no _drama._ He laid in the grass, basking in the unnaturally warm late September air. Ringo relaxed, eyes closed, on his lap steadily breathing. The perfect Saturday evening.

“George! George!”

_Almost._

“George.”

The hufflepuff looked to find a very disheveled Paul in his personal path of sunlight and closed his eyes. “What?”

“I have made a huge mistake, George…”

George narrowed his eyes at his friend observing that Paul would never go out in public looking like he just fell out of bed and right now that’s exactly what he looked like. His normally perfect hair stood up in random places and his uniform wrinkled and buttoned hastily. The nearly flawless skin that George was jealous of was blotched with red. Something was definitely wrong and triggered a ‘protective-best-friend’ response.

“Paul, what happened? Do I need to send Ringo away?”

The Slytherin plopped down in the grass and groaned in his hands. “No… I just… Geo, I don’t know what to do.”

Ringo snored lightly on George’s legs as George shifted upright. “You have to tell me what happened first, love.”

“You have to know I’m in love with John. I just drank too much, Geo.” Paul nearly whined.

“Drank too… shit.” Today was Paul’s date with Clarence, George remembered and took another look at Paul’s state. “Shit. Paul…tell me you didn’t.”

“I…”

“Paul!”

“I had sex with him, alright! I don’t know how it happened…It was so sudden. One minute we were drinking and the other we were, you know… I ran when we were done. My brain caught up to me and I realized what had happened and I just ran. George, I’m – I feel so guilty, like I shouldn’t have done it. I fucking lost my virginity, Geo, to someone other than John. I told myself – I fucking told myself…”

“Hey, hey, Paul. It’s alright.” George rubbed circles on Paul’s back as he hugged him. “Things happen. But you really should go talk to Clarence. You know it can’t have felt very good watching you run out like that.”

“You’re right. I hate when you’re right.” Paul mumbled in George’s neck.

“So you’ve told me.”

~~~~

Clarence didn’t come to dinner that night and Paul felt awful and decided not to eat either. He excused himself early and headed to the common room to try and find the other boy. The main part of the common room had a few students littered about but none of them Clarence. Approaching the dorms, Paul heard a light shuffling in his. He opened the door quietly and poked his head in. Clarence was on his bed, working, or rather, trying to work on homework.

Paul shut the door back and took a breath before knocking. “Clarence? Can I come in?”

Nothing.

He pushed the door open to see Clarence sitting and staring at his hands. “Clarence, we need to talk.” Slowly, Paul walked over and sat down in front of him. “I need to explain -”

Before Paul could react, Clarence attacked his lips and Paul couldn’t bring himself to kiss back. In fact, he just sat there and let it happen.

“Clarence…” he whispered with a disappointed tone.

Clarence pulled away. “Why not me?”

“I…” Paul closed his eyes, thinking the truth would be the best. “There’s someone else. You can’t have possibly felt anything during… _it._ ”

The other boy kept his eyes down. “Is it John?”

“Huh?”

“I saw the letter on the floor when I came back. It must’ve fallen from one of your books or something. It was signed John. I didn’t read it, I promise.”

“I’m sorry.” Paul couldn’t think of anything else to say. Despite his best efforts, Clarence still ended up hurt. “You deserve someone so much better than me. I’m a horrible person.”

Clarence chuckled. “No, you’re not. But tell me, was it any good?”

“What-” Paul thought for a second. “Oh…ah, for both of us being, um, _inexperienced,_ I would say it went pretty well. My running off had nothing to do with quality.”

The other Slytherin nodded. “You really aren’t a bad person, Paul.”

McCartney smiled softly, almost wishing he could have feelings for the other boy. “Thanks, mate. I’m sorry we had to end this way.”

Thanking every person he could think of, Paul was happy they ended on relatively good terms. It might take a while for the awkwardness to disappear, but he had hope. If there was one thing he didn’t want, it would be losing a friend. For now, though, Paul was happy. He sat on his bed and pulled out a blank piece of parchment and began to write:

> _John,_
> 
> _I’m sorry for the delayed response. I don’t get a lot of free time with school work and choir practice. I miss you, too, John. I can only take so much of Ivan before he gets to be too much. Anyway, I have some new song ideas I’ve been working on that we could try out over break. There’s something else with that, too. I have a friend here, George. I may have mentioned him a few times. He’s an amazing guitar player and I think he’d be gear._
> 
> _See you at Christmas,_
> 
> _Paul_
> 
> _P.S. Don’t get in too much trouble until I get back._

As more of their room flowed in from dinner, Paul neatly folded the letter in an envelope. He carefully wrote John’s name and address, embellishing his name more than normal. His roommates weren’t nosy, so they couldn’t care less what he was doing. They did however want to play a game where the loser had to eat a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean of the winner’s choosing. Paul laughed as one of them was forced to eat a vomit flavored bean.

“Oi, McCartney. Get over here an’ join us.”

“Ehhh…fine. But if you make me eat a disgusting jelly bean, I’ll come after every one of you.” Paul let his accent lay on thick and pointed a finger around the room. “Every _single_ one of you.”

“Oooh. We’re _so scared._ ” Clarence said sarcastically and, unknown to the others in the room, letting Paul know there were no a hard feelings.

“I’m a Prefect, you know. I can turn you in to Professor Snape.”

“Why don’t you grace us then, your highness, my lord and liege.” A boy named Alexander spoke.

“That’s more like it.” Paul retorted and took a spot next to Clarence, trying too hard not to dwell on the fact it won’t always be like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next few chapters will be better, I promise. I've hit a little bit of a block with both of my stories so I may post a little something I've been writing to unclog my creativity. 
> 
> With love,  
>  RingosLiverpool8


	9. Speaking Words of Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the shortness...   
> *** Edited 2-13. Found an inconsistency and fixed it.
> 
>  I don't own the Beatles or HP

Being in a school of magic, Halloween is celebrated like the 4th of July is in America: festive decorations, random explosions (thanks to a certain second-year Gryffindor), and _everything is pumpkin._ The feast certainly wasn’t any different. Whole turkeys, casserole-type dishes, and desserts. There were _so many_ desserts. Chocolate pudding, vanilla pudding, assorted candies, ice cream… it was a time to celebrate and forget the stress of school for a while. And for many that’s exactly what Halloween did.

Except one.

It happened a year ago, but to Paul it felt like yesterday. The pain of losing _her_ lingered in his brain and affected his functioning. The others noticed, of course, though they knew to keep their distance because Paul was a kind soul but he could be downright scary when he needed to be. The person in question, although appreciating the space, deep down wanted someone to tell him it would be ok, wanted someone to let him release all the tension he built up and suppressed down. His prefect duties required him to be there at the dinner when he would have rather not gone. Sure, he could have made a valid excuse but what image would that create?

“Paul, you need to eat something…” Clarence spoke, barely audible to Paul’s ears.

In response, Paul kept his eye-contact with the other Slytherin and reached for a small piece of chocolate and ate it. He didn’t want to admit the chocolate tasted good to his rumbling stomach.

Clarence sighed and turned back around. “Fine, but just so you know, you don’t have to act like a prick. We’ve all lost someone.”

Paul scoffed and looked away, knowing full well that Clarence was right and it didn’t help that further down the table, his brother acted like nothing had happened. It irked him to no end. Unfortunately, his stomach betrayed him and he made a small plate of tofu, earning a ‘hmph’ from the boy next to him.

The dinner ended without interruption (there were no trolls, thankfully) and the Prefects of each of the houses led the remaining students from the Great Hall back to their dormitories. Paul walked in the front, doing his obligations and nothing more. They all wound up on the same hallway as the other students, staring at the same sight. Paul glanced at the wall in shock. Miss Norris, Filch’s cat, hung from the wall by her tail and directly next to her, written in what Paul assumed was blood:

**_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._ **

He swallowed hard, feeling his heartbeat hard and thick. _“George,”_ Paul whispered. Quickly scanning the crowd, he didn’t see the familiar face of either George or Ringo. Hope that Ringo and George were already in the Hufflepuff common room. In the center of the commotion was none other than Harry Potter and his two friends. Confusion clouded the room and Paul couldn’t force himself to reprimand the familiar snarling voice that spoke.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next Mudbloods.”

His mind caught up with him when Mr. Filch shouted at the three in the middle of the hallway. “You murdered my cat!”

Preparation to pull the second-years away from the fuming Mr. Filch was halted by the soft call of the Headmaster. “Argus.” From then the accompanying professors took the three Gryffindors and Filch to Lockhart’s office to take care of the matter.

“Slytherins back to the common room.” Paul spoke in the silence settling over everyone, eyes still on the dripping message on the wall. “NOW.” He demanded louder when no one moved. Following behind the students, a hand brushed against his.

“I’m sure it’s someone playing a joke. Potter probably.”

“I don’t know, Clarence…” Paul responded with a thick swallow. His throat felt dry.

“The Chamber of Secrets can’t possibly be opened again…”

With a sigh and a tired look in the direction of Clarence, Paul decided he needed time to think. A desperate feeling overtook his body, making him lightheaded. He wanted to talk to John. See him in person, a touch, _something._

“Before you run off…” Clarence fished around in his robe and handed him a letter. “Here. This came for you at lunch.”

Instantly, Paul recognized the handwriting and smiled.

“Is it him? John?” Clarence asked feeling his stomach churn at the name. He felt bad now, hearing that name and knowing that's who Paul chose over him. McCartney was a higher being to Clarence who thought he didn't have a chance and that's why he slipped a little bit of a draught in his Butterbeer on his date. He knew that Butterbeer had just an inkling of alcoholic properties and he thought he could get away with it. Things, however, escalated farther than he expected.

“Mm.” Paul answered back. “I’ll see you in the morning, Clarence.”

After a dejected sigh, Clarence spoke. “Ok. G’night.”

“’Night.” As soon as the other boy rounded out of the common room, Paul opened his letter.

> _Paul,_
> 
> _I don't think I have the right words for you because I don't think I can understand. I'll do my best by saying it will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end. That said, it's not your end yet, because I'm sure she's there beside you and in every decision and move you make. You told me she ~~was~~ is kind. So are you. Kindness isn't a weakness and I think people often mistake it as such. If you weren’t as you are, you wouldn’t have put up with me. _
> 
> _Until Christmas, Macca._
> 
> _John_

Paul walked over to the edge of the common room to sit in his favorite spot. He shrugged off his robe and loosened his tie before reading over John’s words one more time. John was such an enigma to the young wizard. Sometimes he could be a royal pain in the ass and others he could be bloody Shakespeare. Regardless, Paul knew he needed that. Smiling lightly, he pulled up his knees to his chest and looked out into the black lake.


	10. To Make It Blow Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this one... I tried something a little different.
> 
>  
> 
> I don't own The Beatles and assoc. nor HP

No one slept a wink that night. Chatter about the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter entered the minds of every student, infiltrating the general atmosphere of the Slytherin common room. A lot of the Slytherins believed it was Potter who’s just trying to get attention, again. Paul also wanted to believe that, but the stories from his father terrified him. Who could possibly play a sick joke like that? And that’s why Paul didn’t think it was Potter. He, too, had a muggle-born friend. Granger, he believed was her name. Paul made a mental note to find George tomorrow. No doubt that Ringo would watch out for him, though.

His roommates still whispered about the events after dinner, so Paul tuned them out and pulled out a blank piece of parchment.

> _John,_
> 
> _There’s been a terror threat at our school. It’s nothing to worry about. The school officials will take care of it, I’m sure. On a somewhat lighter note, thank you for your letter, Johnny. I don’t think anyone realized how much I really needed those words. Including myself. So, thanks. Hope Halloween treated you kindly. There’s something that I need to tell you, get it off my conscience. Not in this letter, though. I’ll have to tell you at Christmas._
> 
> _Speaking of Christmas, I can’t wait to get back. I’m staying with George’s family, so you’ll be free to visit anytime. My father thinks I’m staying at school over the break, so we’ll have to be careful. Anyway, like I said, I’ve got a few songs we should try out and I’m glad you decided to give George a chance despite his age. It only took four letters…_
> 
> _Cheers,_
> 
> _Paul_
> 
> _P.S. I’ve got a letter for your Aunt enclosed. Just a thank you for letting me stay that night. Ta, Johnny._

Folding up John’s letter, he began the one to Mimi. She deserved to know what was going on.

> _Ms. Smith,_
> 
> _Something’s happening at Hogwarts and we’ve only seen the beginning, I think. Just tonight, someone wrote a message in blood on the castle walls._ The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware. _At this point, there isn’t much more information. As the Slytherin Prefect, they should tell me more as events unfold. John thinks it’s a terror threat. I hope I’ve used that right._
> 
> _I’ll be in touch,_
> 
> _Paul McCartney_

He read his letter to John’s aunt once more before sticking it in with John’s and then taking it back out and placing a charm over it so John couldn’t read the real contents. Satisfied, Paul nudged the sleeping ball of fur at the end of his bed.

“Thisbe,” he whispered.

The calico cat looked up with a yawn, clearly upset to be disturbed from her slumber.

“Oh, stop. All you do is sleep. Here,” he set the letter down in front of her. “Take this to Walter in the Owlry.”

Thisbe yawned again before slowly getting up and stretching again.

Paul rolled his eyes. “By all means, take your time.” She picked up the letter in her mouth and strutted off with a grunt, probably signifying displeasure towards her owner.

“Lazy animal.” Paul muttered before settling himself under the covers. His mates were still whispering, but only just, not enough to keep him awake. The last thing he remembered was a furry body snuggling underneath the covers next to his legs. Paul drifted off into a dreamless sleep, something which hadn’t happened in several months.

~~~~

**John’s POV**

John woke up, yet again to the sound of Mimi banging on his door and demanding he join her for breakfast and get ready for school. It just turned November but it already bloody felt like December. His room felt like a meat locker. Getting up from bed was less appealing than jumping face first into a pile of shit at the moment.

Another series of knocks rapped at his bedroom door. “John Winston Lennon. If you’re not down here and ready for school in five minutes, I’m throwing that guitar of yours in the garbage.”

“I’m up, Mimi!” John shouted back, head still tucked in the pillow.

“Five minutes, John.” Came the reply and John groaned and rolled himself out of bed in a rather dramatic roll. He picked up a pair of jeans off the floor and gave them a good sniff. Passing the smell test, he yanked them on his body followed by a clean, black t-shirt from his drawer. It smelled strongly of spring flower detergent, suggesting Mimi must’ve recently washed a load. Squinting, John looked around for the last part of his school attire.

“Ah. Imagine that. I haven’t touched it.” His eyes landed on a backpack which laid untouched where he dropped it the day before. He slung the near-empty bag on his right shoulder and rushed shoeless down the stairs to meet his Aunt in the kitchen. _Four and a half minutes,_ John thought with a smirk.

As he sat down at the small kitchen table situated next to the window, Mimi dropped a small plate of eggs and sausage in front of him. “Ta, Mimi.” Mimi merely hummed him a response, a tune which John knew meant she was disappointed. He got up to pour himself a glass of juice when he noticed an envelope with familiar handwriting sitting on the counter.

“When did this come?” John held the letter up for his Aunt to see.

Mimi gave it an uninterested glance. “This morning. I’d almost forgotten about it.”

Forgetting all about his juice, John quickly ripped open the yellow parchment, excited at how thick it was. He scanned the letter, hands shaking from the very first sentence to the very last. Paul seemed short with him, like he was lying to him again. Disappointment at the lack of words and the extra letter put John in an off mood. Huffing, he handed Mimi her letter.

“Here. Paul wrote you a letter.” She snatched it and quickly read it. John noticed the change in her expression before it returned to the usual “Mimi” face, as John deemed it. Whatever Paul had written to her, shook her, John could tell. Her lapse in facial expression wasn’t one of disapproval or hatred, but, fear? As long as John could remember, Mimi never showed fear.

“Paul said there had been a terror attack at his school…” John tried.

“Oh? I’m sure it’s just someone playing a joke, they usually are.”

Her response lacked confidence and it only confirmed John’s suspicions: Paul had told Mimi the same thing.

Paul lied to him…again.


	11. Mind Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up the pace a little to move on to the next year. Again, I apologize for the little hiatus I took.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> I don't own The Beatles or HP

By the beginning of December, there had been two attacks, one on Mr. Filch’s cat and the other on a first year Gryffindor. The petrifications had prompted the start of a dueling club for those who wanted to learn how to defend themselves. The whole school was excited, but Paul remained apprehensive since Lockhart signed up to teach it. Class with the man made Paul want to stab out his eyes with his wand, but because he was a Prefect, he had to behave. It didn’t totally deter him from going since Snape would be partnered.

He also guilted George, Ringo, and Ivan to come so he wouldn’t be alone. It didn’t take much more than “Snape is going to probably duel Lockhart” to get the others to come. They didn’t like Snape, but they disliked Lockhart even more.

“I hope Snape sets him on fire,” George joked on the way to the Great Hall for the first club meeting.

Paul pursed his lips. “Be civil, George.”

“What’s eating you, then?” George snapped back.

McCartney smiled at him. “At least turn him into a toad.”

“Piss off.”

The four friends walked on, chatting excitedly about the things they want to learn. Paul mostly listened, more interested in paying attention to what could be around the corner. Ever since the second attack, he took more steps to look out for George, even going to Ringo on several occasions to beg him to not let George walk anywhere alone. Ringo, the good sport that he is, played along for Paul’s benefit. As much as he wanted to believe he was over-reacting, he knew risks couldn’t be taken with the remaining Death Eaters. They were still capable of doing damage.

“You alright, Paulie?” Ivan asked.

“Hm?”

“I said, are you alright? You’ve got that look about you.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Ivan let the subject drop, knowing how useless it would be to continue.

The doors to the Great Hall were already open, displaying the dueling platform and student already there. Paul hung out towards the back to let some of the younger students get a better view of their idiotic, somewhat flamboyant Dark Arts professor. It took a lot of will on Paul’s part to not snort or laugh at the utter nonsense spilling out of Lockhart’s mouth.

“Hogwash.” Paul muttered loud enough for George to hear next to him, who struggled to keep it together. Their ears, however, perked when Lockhart pronounced that Professor Snape would help with a demonstration. This added sparks to the sour mood surrounding the audience. Paul desperately wanted to see Lockhart flat on his ass and his wish came true after Snape threw a disarming spell at the man. No matter how many people didn’t like Snape, they still clapped.

Still, though, Lockhart tried to spin the failure as intention and introduced that a pair of students try.

“Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” Lockhart suggested, only to be shot down with the possible damage that Weasley could do with his broken wand. Of course, Draco Malfoy would be the only solution and he was who Snape picked to duel Potter. Paul begged that Potter would be the champion because someone needed to show the little twit that he wasn’t as important as he thought. Paul himself would do it if it were more even between the two of them, but alas, he is a fifth year and Malfoy a second. It’d be unfair.

The two second years faced each other scowling and brooding. Rules of dueling were clear, you face your opponent and then on the count of three, you begin. Malfoy, naturally, went before three, flinging a spell at Harry, catching him off guard. Not to be discouraged, Potter flung a tickle charm right back, knocking Malfoy flat on his back. For Paul, _mission accomplished_. Lockhart, the spoilsport, warned the boys to disarm only. Being fierce competitors, they each wanted to win and to change up the game, Malfoy conjured a snake in the middle of the platform. Paul saw Harry balk just a bit at the snake and it confused him to say the least. The kid defeated Voldemort as a baby and now he’s afraid of a little snake?

Lockhart stepped forward, pushing Snape out of the way to dispose of the snake, only to send the snake flying up through the air. He succeeded in only making the creature angry. It flared the sides of its neck out, alert to strike any that come near it. The room became silent, filled with only the feather-light hissing from the snake, who turned its attention a boy to the side. Paul felt every urge to grab the boy away, but feared the snake would lunge at any sudden movement.

Another hissing noise filled the room and Paul recognized it immediately, as did the rest of the room. Parseltongue. Harry Potter was speaking to the snake. Maybe he really was the heir of Slytherin and attacking the students. All Paul knew was that he had rounds to make tonight and he would be keeping an eye on Harry.

~~~~

Dinner passed by without interruption, save most of the Gryffindor table sitting away from Potter, Granger, and Weasley. The whole damn situation confused the hell out of Paul and for that reason, the food didn’t seem as appetizing.

“Paul, what’s wrong?” Dot questioned, leaning towards him.

“I don’t know, luv. I’m probably making something out of a whole lotta nothin’.” He answered.

“Is this about Potter?”

“Yeah. It just doesn’t make sense. The kid defeated Vo-You Know Who, has a muggle born friend, is friends with the Weasleys…and he speaks Parseltongue? But I can’t quite call it a coincidence, yet.”

Dot studied Paul, noting the obvious stress the situation is causing him. “This isn’t your problem, Paul. I know you’re worried about George, but you’re doing the best you can with what you’re given. Ringo’s a good wizard, too, and he’ll look out for him. Now, would you _please_ eat something.”

“Fine. You’re as bad a Clarence, I swear to Merlin.”

~~~~

Students filed out of the Great Hall, bellies full. Paul waited for the last of the students to leave before starting his rounds to catch any students braving wandering the castle alone at night. He usually sets them off with a warning if it's a first time offense, but doesn't hesitate to report or take away points for more than that. For a change, a Slytherin prefect was liked more than the other houses.

Although he liked being a prefect, it made being alone with your thoughts more common and right now, particularly, Paul wanted nothing more than to stay away from his thoughts. Especially since he hadn't heard from John in over a month. Part of him wanted to believe that John was merely busy but the other part decided to be more savage, suggesting John did move on from him. The last letter he revived was short and elusive and he replied asking if anything was wrong, resulting in a month of silence. He couldn't let John distract him from school, so he tried to push him to the back of his mind. However, when he did that, his mind pulled John into a dream and vivid ones at that. Paul couldn't count on his fingers how many times he'd woken up drenched in sweat and breathing hard. Christmas break couldn't come fast enough.

Paul sighed, turning around to go back to his common room when he heard a shuffle from further down the corridor. His heart beat fast as his feet took him towards the noise. The thing, or person, attacking the students has only, so far, attacked a cat and a muggle born, not necessarily guaranteeing his safety.

Holding his breath, Paul rounded the corner and could never have expected to find what he did.

Potter crouched over another student and a Nearly-Headless-Nick floating motionless above them. Any words or actions failed him. What he walked in on was incriminating for Potter and as the person in question stood up, Paul backed up and drew his wand.

“It wasn't me. I found them on my way back to the common room. You have to believe me.”

“I can't make that judgment.” Was all Paul could muster in reply. He desperately wanted to believe the second year.

“Please. Don't get Snape.” The second year pleaded and Paul understood. Snape, he's heard, isn't very kind to Potter. Scuttlebutt has it that is has something to do with childish rivalry. At least, that's what he's overheard from the other professors.

“I won't.” He promised and pocketed his wand before running off to fetch McGonagall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a little creative liberties and some cannon divergence. Hope it was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> .....................pation. :D


End file.
